Pure
by Getti
Summary: Five people hold the world in their palms, but when The End is in sight, can they keep it sheltered there? 1x2 3x4 13x5 HIATUS
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** :shot of Forgetful searching cracks in the ice in Antarctica. Snow blizzards around her and she is a walking snowman...uh...woman.: I've searched the whole of this goddamn freezing place, and still haven't found the deeds to Gundam Wing. I don't own it, but I will one day! Stay tuned for more adventures of '_Forgetful, and the lost treasure of the Gundam Wing ownership papers_'!

**Warnings:** Shounen-ai. 1x2 3x4 mainly, 6x9 as a tiny tiny, mentoned once side, probably 13x5, depending on how many Wuffie/Treize fans are reading. :grin: Really bad spelling (I will try), maybe some bad language, but perhaps not even that. No lemon, I doubt lime. In either sense of the word. (There's two different meanings in this community, it's weird. --;) Urrr, I might go into gore in places I get too carried away on, but that's not for a good while anyways.

Otherwise: This is mostly unplanned. It has a rough plot, but everything that happens aside from the main prophecy and the big flashy ending is just random waffle and ideas that attack me at my most vulnerable time; In my sleep. :cries: Oh the plot bunnies! So...yeah. Heero, I made him more 'human' in this. Tell me if his character bugs you, and I'll change it. If you want me to put anything in, say more of a pairing or a certain place, I'll be happy to. I'm just not very good with romance. :is sheepish: Meh, help with fluff VERY welcome.

Oh, and don't worry if it's hard to understand. Please persevere with it, I'll explain everything by chapter three, honest. Well, almost everything, some identities may have to remain hidden for the plot's sake. :wink: It's crippled enough as it is, that poor plot, leave it alone. :disappears with pout:

**Pure**

A Fantasy By Forgetful

_The Scripture of Tomorrow_

Prophecy of The End_ by Charles Bradwin_

_"All ends must have a beginning, and the end of Meinera is no different. Meinera will fall, her pure wings stained with the blood of her people, and this will all be started by The Beginning. The prophecy tells us:_

_The Beginning is golden like an angel, and he is loved by many, loves many. He has no wicked intent, but evil will mislead him, and take him to the Regretful Fields to bring the Ages of Sin._

_These ages - seven in number, a moon each in length - will symbolise the beginning of The End. This will be all the time the four Warriors have to assemble, all the time the four Angels will have to emerge. Only this short seven moons will be enough for the Sky Lord to realise his potential. Though once they are together, they will be the miracles, and they will be a power great._

_Together, these miracles will have to rear an army to fight The End, and this army will all perish, even if the miracles remain. Whether they succeed in surviving or Meinera is plunged into darkness does not matter, for even if they defeat The End time and time again, one generation will fail, and that will be the end of all beginnings, the last of all ends."_

X

Zechs heard the voice again, felt the pull on his hand. It seduced his soul, pulling him along in the sweet caress of its tones, nudging him gently forward. The stone was close, it was a beautiful white marble in a meadow filled with white daisies and poppies of the deepest blood red. The little blue flowers reminded him of tears, and he wondered why he had images of blood and tears in such a beautiful place.

_"Here we are, this is what I wanted to show you."_ It was a child's voice, a little girl, but it would often suddenly turn into a fiery but kind woman. Sometimes it would take the role of a father also, it had been with him for at least a week now. Noin had thought him sick, and had called the doctor many times, but each time the medical man just shaken his head sadly. Noin couldn't work out what was wrong, Zechs didn't think there _was_ anything wrong. It was't hurting anyone, maybe it was just a lost spirit that needed help, or had been sent to help him? He wasn't going to deny one that may be sent by the Goddess Meinera.

" What is it?" He asked, unaware that to anyone else, he was talking to himself.

_"It is your destiny."_

"What does that mean?"

_" It means you are The Beginning."_ All the voices merged as one, overwhelming his brain. Alarm bells went off, but it was too late. In his moment of weakness, the voice had pushed through and moved his hand to rest palm up on the marble, and in that instant the field was gone. The poppies merged to make rivers of crimson life-blood. The trees were bent over and charred by some unholy fire, and there were bones. Bones and bones and bones, and the voice.

_" You are The Beginning. You are The Beginning of The End, yours are the hands who begin the eighth cycle, and the eighth time Meinera has to fight to stay alive. You are The Beginning. This is the Field of Regrets, where you shall wallow away and meet your end. You are The Beginning and we are The End. You are The Beginning. You are The Beginning..._

X

Heero ignored the raging rain outside and looked over the texts once more. There was little there that he didn't already know, and most of it was proclamations of some god or another, a loyal deciple persuading people that by prayer alone they could avoid the pain which The End presented. He snorted to himself. Heero knew better, Heero had been trained on The End since he was four, and Heero was going to stop it.

Ever since he'd been brought into the Midnight Temple of Meinera he'd been taught about the prophecy; The End, The Beginning, the people needed to stop the end from ever coming to fruition. All the little facts he had stored neatly away in his head, to be brought out when he needed them, it was surprising he knew how to read and write having dedicated most of his time to the transcripts and scrolls.

" Heero." He turned in his chair, tired eyes coming to rest on a short old monk. His long robes drifted along the floor, rustling in the little drafts storms always produced, and he leaned heavilly on a gnarled old stick. He was the Master of this shrine. The high priest Doji who ran the magnificent palace known as the Midnight Temple, helping people pray and make offerings to Meinerva, the Earth Goddess of all. "Tell me what you are feeling." Heero slitted his eyes a little, but complied with the strange request.

" I...I am exhausted, but I know I can't sleep. My mind frets, although more with an unknown energy than worry. And I think, I might be...ready. I feel surefooted in the footsteps I am to echo." He finished the difficult speech. Analysing feelings was hard for him, as he couldn't often make sense of what he felt. The old Priest broke into a gin.

" Textbook answer my boy, but so you should be. I think that energy might be...excitement perhaps? You're looking forward to this, I can tell." Heero looked away, with a ghost of a smile on his lips. He gave a slight nod.

" It's what my life's been leading to."

" Hmm. I just had hoped you'd be a little older." Heero frowned as the old man angrilly looked at the floor.

" I can do this." He assured. "I will, you know I have to."

" I don't doubt that Heero. I just, just wanted you to have a little time to yourself before it happened. Meinera's Spirit, you're still a child! Although destined for this burden I wanted you to experience some times that you could look back on with a smile. In case...Just in case." He threw up his hands in a gesture of tired defeat.

" I'm fifteen, I can meet all expectations."

" But what of your life? Do you not want for a childhood, do you not long for a time you can truly claim pure, unblemished happiness? I fear I could not ever give that to you! And still can't, I could never be the children you wanted to play with, or the mother you needed the embrace of. I can't live for you Heero, but by now I'm afraid you've lost the chance to live for yourself as well." There was silence as the words sunk in. Yes, a childhood...He had wanted to play, but it was for a greater good that he studied and learned. It wasn't certain that any of the other Four would know or understand any of what they would have to undertake. Heero had to know, for all their sakes."You leave in the morning. I hope some of that made sense to you, but please, I don't want to have you leave on a bad note." Heero looked up, and then pulled his whole body out of the chair. He and Doji were the same size, both of them smaller than a fully grown adult. Doji because he was shrunken in age and Heero because he was not yet _of _age. He gave the old man a light embrace and had his hair ruffled in response. "There. Bed now, I don't care if you can't sleep, you are not falling asleep in your saddle. Who heard of a hero doing that, hmm? Come to think of it, no-one's heard of _the_ Heero doing that either, so I doubt that would happen. But, either way, to bed! Off with you now."

" Goodnight Master."

" Goodnight." Bowing slightly, Heero turned and left the room. His bare feet padded on the freezing pink-marble floor, and the drafts tore at his bedclothes. He shiverred slightly, and glanced out of the glass window. The shrine was below him in the courtyard, and though there was nothing there, his eyes were drawn to it for no reason.  
" What is it?" He murmured to himself. He started when something moved, but was immediately at the stairs a second later. _What am I doing?_ He thought, but couldn't stop himself, there was something...

The archways that led out into the square looked like doors, the rain was so thick. Using his arm to shield his face, Heero ran out across the lawn to the saftey of the shrine.

" Hello?" He called. Walking toward the alter, he noticed some of the food offerings were gone. They'd been replaced with two golden loops, which was an uncommon offering in itself, but why was the food gone? A follower of Meinera wouldn't eat her gifts, surely?

There was the sound of footsteps behind him and he span to catch a flash of white, which disappeared into the rain instantly. Gone.

When Heero got back to his room, wet, grumpy and cold, he shed the clothes and pulled on a new nightshirt. Bed, that's all he wanted.

The next morning greeted him with drizzle tapping on his window shutters, a draft sneeking through the bed covers and the thought of a long journey on horseback ahead of him. Groaning, he sat up and rubbed at his eyes sleepilly.

He splashed a little water from the cracked china basin on his face, and his training kicked in. He moved around the room in an organised fashion, collecting bags previously packed and checking for anything forgotten. He took them to the base of the staircase with ease, and all too soon found himself at the front of the temple he'd known as 'home' since he'd been old enough to walk. He tightened the saddlestraps, and knelt out of respect to say what he promised wouldn't be the final goodbye.

" Remember, I want a letter from every civilised stop you come to, and descriptions detailed to the point I would recognise each of the other four on the spot." Doji ordered. Heero nodded, and looked up as Doji walked over to the shrine and plucked the Holy Bow from above it. "This is a weapon of the Four. I charge you with its care. This is not your weapon, Heero." Doji explained, looking a little agrieved. "Yours is lost still, but this belongs to the third found." Heero nodded wordlessly, and accepted the bow by standing and strapping it to his back. He resumed his kneeling position and Doji placed a hand on his head, a symbol of affection, of lending strength to a boy starting out on a journey alone. He sighed. It would be so much easier of he could go with Heero, he'd raised the boy, after all, and could hardly bring himself to let the young man he knew almost as a son go out into the clutches of danger. Alas, he was too old to hope to survive the journey. He would make do with the promise that Heero would return with the other three once they'd been found and before they did anything. It would be interesting to see what hand Meinera dealt him. He only hoped they could handle it.

" I will return Master Doji, with the weapons and the Four bonded beyond betrayal. I will find the Angels as well. I will not fail, not with so much at stake."

" Don't take too much on your young shoulders Heero, you cannot support all the weight. Please remember to trust the Four, perfection won't get you through the ceremony alone." Doji looked into the boy's eyes. He had never trusted anyone completely, no-one but Doji, and trusting strangers would be an alien and next to impossible concept for him.

" I...I will try to remember that. I will always remember your teachings, Master." Heero gave a flicker of a smile.

" I know my boy. Now go, I'm sure you have a map in your head already." Heero's eyes danced with vigour, and Doji only saw it as a good sign. Heero pulled himself up onto his horse. Looking down, he smiled slightly at the old man below him.

" Goodbye Master Doji, expect my return with at least one other companion." The Temple Master simply gave a nod of his own, and Heero turned his horse onto the road that would lead him into the big, wide world. Behind him the man that had raised him like a parent, before him the promise of people who would become closer to him than the family he could never claim to have had.

X

Riding soon became inconvinient and boring. Heero had the feel of a general direction; a pull on his very being that he'd felt since as far back as he could remember. It had grown stronger now that he had the bow strapped to his back.

He'd been told about the pull, something which he'd grown to ignore as it was a part of his daily life. It would narrow his search down a little...But only a little. And 'a little' in a big place like Meinera wasn't very helpful. In scriptures he'd read about feeling an unmistakable buzz when he found one of the Four, and that specific events would lead him to the other three, but he didn't trust those events to come at any convenient time.

There were three people he had to find specifically, yes. All around his age, all with extroadinary talents and an intimidating challenge ahead of them that some of them might not even know about at that point in time. But that wasn't all, he had to find four 'Angels' as well. For where the Four were boys, the Angels were girls. They were less specific, more elusive, and he had no idea if the pull he had would lead him to them. Absently he noted the sun setting, and continued plodding along towards the nearest town. That of Arrowsmith.

The night was on him suddenly, and rather than bedding down he continued on. Doji had told him not to stop on the highways, and to keep going unless on a village or country road. With the menacing trees and lack of people, Heero wasn't going to doubt his advice. It was this continued movement that brought him to his first challenge, one he hadn't expected to have to deal with so soon.

It appeared to be the corpse of a young girl. The figure was white-pale, and dainty, and Heero pulled over if only because his sense of right and wrong told him he shouldn't leave a corpse unburied, or a maid in need alone. Of course, he could see little, and the girl had blue skin in the moonlight, stark against the dark road. Her hair was light as well, maybe white or blond. The tunic she wore was stained with blood and dirt, and it too was pale, although decorated prettilly with emroidered patterns.

Sliding off the horse, he knelt down beside her and swept his cloak aside. He reached out to touch an arm, and found it cold, but something was just..._there._ He knew it. Moving his grip to her wrist, he found a weak pulse. Rolling her over he decided he would try to keep her alive through the night. If she survived, he would, for lack of a better word, nurse her.

Only...She was a he. That was shock alone, and it would have been nearly impossible to tell in the obscure light if not for the gash in the tunic showing a clearly flat chest. He realised quickly that this could be one of the 'specific events' the scriptures mentioned, but he felt no buzz. He wasn't drawn to the boy, and he couldn't detect any of the warm belonging described by one of the Four who'd been part of the generation before him. Yes, that's right. The Four had already been and gone in the past, seven times to be exact.

" Damn." He muttered, bundling the boy into his arms and carrying him to the horse. It wouldn't be sensible to set up camp there and then, but the boy needed protected rest and he supposed that's what he intended to provide.

**A/N: **Well well, tadaa. The writing tone is a little stuck up, I apologise. It's just because I'm settling into a new story with new readers, and I have to find my niche and my tone. It'll be sorted by chapter 3, promise.

I'm just weird that way. Anyway, there was another story by the same title that I wrote once, and it got added to a C2 but I got no reviews. I'm sorry to everyone who was reading that, but I got no feedback and didn't feel that interested in writing it, so it slowed to a halt and started rotting away much like my Pretear fic. I took it down and replaced it with this one, which I assure you will NOT be continued if no feedback is recieved. So, please go look at the review count at the top of this page now. Done it? Does it say zero or some pitiful number like two? Well, if it does please review. Please? I really need the cast of faithful reviewers to be filled by you dutiful fangirl reviewers! (Or fan boys.)

Many thanks! Forgetful.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **:We see a furnace of a desert, waves of heat make the sand shimmer and there aren't even tiny, fluffy clouds to block the blazing sun for a second. Forgetful crawls across landslides of golden grains, empty water bottle at her side:" I...Have searched...The whole desert. No...Gundam wing ownership...papers. I don't own it...Yet! BUT I WILL!" That concludes stage two of _'Forgetful and the lost treasure of the Gundam Wing ownership papers.'_

**Warnings:** Oh, they were in the first chapter. If you really want them, click the little purple button that says 'chapter 1' on it.

**A/N:** Well, well, well. Thank you to the one, blessed perosn who reviewed, (Yay to Karia Ithilai!)

but to the rest of you; I can't believe you hate this story so much that you'd leave it twitching in the dust. TT WAAAA! Oh well, it gets one more shot and then I pull it out. I'll put it in a mailing list somewhere...:sniff: I was hoping I could make this a pointlessly long fic like a real fantasy book, with the plot twists and betrayals and everything! I was looking forward to that. Mythical beasts and relationships that are rocky and kawaii! And I really like the second part of this chapter too.

But yeah, one more chance. The bits in italics at the beginning of every chapter, you don't have to read those. They _will _help you to understand things a bit though. Here's the fic...Oh, and I'm gonna' try to explain stuff that I thought might have confused people in the last chapter.

**Pure**

A floundering fantasy by Forgetful

_The Four Warriors_

_As written by Guy Chambers in _'Meinera's Ledgends and Mythology'

_"There are four who Meinera selects every thousand years. Four who can stop The End from coming, and only four who can fight it. Of course, these four alone are not enough, but they are essentially the key to Meinera's survival. I was fortunate not to experiance it or them as of yet in my lifetime, but I pity those who will have to deal with The End when it comes. There is little to no information on The End or the figures that are needed to prevent it. I have managed to find out through folklore, minstrels, old texts, bards and religions enough to have a small section on this event, but it isn't much. I at least know that the Four Warriors will have to find eachother, and have four weapons; a sword, a staff, a bow and a pair of knives, or at least weapons to that effect. These are scattered over Meinera, and have to be sought out. Once weapons and Warriors are found, there must be no mistrust among The Four, and this is the reason for the Bonding Ceremony. (See page 64) They would, after the ceremony, love one another like brothers, and the texts say some more than that. Of course, to have found eachother and the weapons would have already brought them together through experiance, but this just finalises and binds the promise to them. No betrayal is possible as the others would know immediately. And they would forgive eachother anything, for that is the way."_

_"The actual battle itself has never been documented, although there is evidence to suggest there have been at least seven in the past. Seven thousand years of the threat of The End hanging over our heads. It isn't a comforting thought that we will never escape the fear of it coming, not until it does, or until The End succeeds and we are all wiped into oblivion."_

It was as he started to re-saddle his horse that Heero noticed the blond he'd saved the night before beginning to rise. The fire he'd hastilly constructed was dwindling to nothing in the morning fog; it had been the only warmth, the rest of the sky hidden behind monotonous grey clouds and the colours around him muted by dew. A cold, crisp morning. One he was used to, having had training at the temple at five every morning for the past twelve years of his life.

He watched the sleeping figure for a moment, and then, deciding he wouldn't wake on his own, strode over and shook his shoulder. The boy's eyes snapped open immediatly, blue as a tropical ocean, and they focussed with fear on Heero's face. The blond sat up quickly, as if to make a bid for escape, but doubled over before he even reached an upright position.

" Try not to make sudden or taxing movements." Heero advised coldly, releasing the shoulder he'd held and returning to his tack.

" Who...Who are you? Am I on your land? I'm sorry, I'll leave right away. I never meant any harm." He tried to get up again, slower this time, but then noticed the clean, white bandages under a gash in his tunic.

" You aren't on my land, because I don't own any. This is a public pathway. I found you collapsed at the side of the road bleeding, and stopped your wound from getting any worse." The tack was finished by the time Heero was done speaking. Taking out some bread from his saddlebag, he threw it at the blond who caught it deftly. "Eat. It's not a bad wound, but you'll need to keep up your strength to heal properly."

" Thank you." Tearing off a piece of the bread, the boy chewed it thoughtfully. "Why did you help me?" He suddenly asked. "Most other people would have just left a wounded person on the road, especially a person like me." Heero arched an eyebrow.

" It was morally right. What do you mean anyway, a person like you?"

" I'm an outcast, a gypsy. Normally people are disgusted to even see me, let alone share their food with me." He answered dejectedly. Blue eyes fluttered to the floor, and the blond was lost in his own mind for a few moments. "Where are you from, to so blindly accept people for who they are? Is there such a place that accepts everyone?" He muttered quietly to himself.

" A temple. Back along the road, the Midnight Temple of Meinera, it houses anyone, no matter creed nor colour. I am its apprentice, Heero Yuy." Heero explained, wondering at just how lost the blond looked.

" The temple, oh." Silence, and then..." Oh!" Starting suddenly, the blond flushed.

" What?"

" Nothing, really. I just...recognise it, that's all. I'm Quatre Winner, it's a pleasure to meet someone so open minded." He bowed low, and when he rose again Heero inclined his head.

" Likewise. However, I would like to know what you were doing wandering down a highway all on your own. Which way are you headed? I have to move on soon, to Arrowsmith. You could tell me on the way." Quatre simply shrugged.

" Sure."

And so they found themselves plodding along beside Heero's fidgetting mare, Quatre telling his story. He was a gypsy from the East, and his tribe had been one prized in the gypsy community. They were beautiful dancers, and were rich thanks to many of their young girls marrying wealthy noblemen. Their carriages had been known everywhere; reds and golds and greens, carved and painted to look like works of art. Most of them were blond and fair skinned, and it was this trait which often sealed the marriages in the end.

They had been respected until they had come to the town of Apolithe. The people there, be it over jealousy or fear of the strange dancers, had shunned them. Until the night before their departure, Quatre's people had been left completely alone by the people of Apolithe. But on that night they had risen up and taken the gypsy camp; seizing gold and killing the men and boys. Quatre had been ordered by some men, one of them his father, to go with his friends and any others they could find and escape to the forest. His group had been chased through the trees, the fires of their homes burning their backs, and they'd split up. In the darkness, on unfamiliar terrain, Quatre had stumbled and beyond that he couldn't remember anything except being shooed away from towns and wandering lonely roads.

" And what about that wound on your chest?" Heero asked.

" Oh, that. A procession for a noble went by and his guards found amusement in pelting me with rocks. One of them went so far as to attack me with his sleeve-daggar. He was humiliated I think when he couldn't catch me with it, because what I lack in strength I make up for in speed and brains. Despite this he got angry, and one of the others caught me from behind. He cut me with it while I was restrained, told me not to be so insolent, and then rejoined the procession. No-one else even so much as batted an eye." Quatre's eyes hardened, the scene fresh in his mind. Heero shook his head sadly.

" I didn't think the world would be so..." He trailed off.

" Cruel?" Quatre provided, wrinkling his nose in disgust at the word. Nodding, Heero agreed. "Anyway Heero, it's your turn to talk now. If you come from a temple, are you a holy man...on a pilgrimage perhaps?"

" No, I'm looking for the Four." Heero said bluntly. Quatre's eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

" The four? Are they some sort of council?"

" Not really. I'm sure you've heard of The End." Quatre's eyes widened at Heero's words, and he nodded his head slowly. He knew of The End; a catastrophic event that occurred every thousand years. It could end the world and plunge it into a purgatory of pain and dispair, and it had been stopped well before their generation. It wasn't something anyone considered dealing with. "Well, I have to find the Four to defend our world once more." Quatre was at a loss for words for a while, until finally he stuttered out;

" The End is coming?" It was barely even a whisper, and Heero almost didn't catch it at all.

" Yes, and soon."

" And you have to find the four warriors to stop it? I thought those were just fairytales, myths. The knights that would aid mankind. And you, you'll have to find them. Just who are you, Heero Yuy?" Quatre looked up at him with awe, and Heero felt he could trust the petit blond. He'd been warned that there were those who would try to destroy the Four before The End , but he didn't think Quatre could bring himself to hurt a fly, let alone kill a human.

" I am one of the Four; The swordbearer. And I have been charged with finding my comrades."

X

(The second part I like so much.)

Trowa sped through the streets and the people. Behind him the Special Guard Devision stumbled and shoved, miraculously still on his tail even after he'd taken to the crowded streets. Lunging down a side alley, he emerged into Main Street and hid behind a stall selling apples. The Special Devision were spewed out of the alley's depths a few moments later.

" Damn it, where'd he go?" He heard the captain mutter. "Split up and find him, he's got to still be in this street. Block off the exits!" With the rhythmic stomp of heavy boots, the SD complied with their captain's frustrated request, and were so engrossed in their task that they completely overlooked Trowa's hiding place.

Sliding from the shelter of the apple store, Trowa ducked into a doorway where a kindly woman called Sally ran a healing pharmacy.

" In trouble again, Barton? Can't you leave those poor soldiers in peace for just one day?" She smiled at him as he entered, barely looking up from her recipe for another cure. Trowa snorted.

" They don't deserve peace, the way they treat the poor in this city. They've brought upon themselves every moment of frustration that I cause them." He stated defiantly. Sally laughed heartilly, pouring some sort of green balm into a tub.

" It's good that someone fights for the residents of this place. Just don't go getting caught, you know how valuable the herbs you and Cathy send me are." Trowa nodded, his trained ears picking up on the captain's booming voice.

" I better go Sally. Catch you tomorrow." Sally nodded and went back to her work. Leaving without another word, Trowa found himself back out in the grey light produced by the sun trying to shine through the clouds. Checking both directions, and finding them all clear, he launched himself back into the crowd.

He wasn't sure how it happened. One minute he was running, the next he'd stopped and had his arm pinned behind his back. He was forced onto his knees as the captian approached, swinging his sword up to rest at the base of Trowa's neck.

" You can't get away from the SD as easy as the other law forces in this city. However, now you know that, you'll wish you'd not tested your luck today; you're going to the gallows for certain. The mayor's very angry with you." Trowa glared, as if his murderous look alone could wipe the smug grin off the captain's lips. As it was, it couldn't and the smirk only grew wider. "It's going to be fun watching you go down, boy. You've wasted a lot of our time. But no more, eh guys?" Cheers went up from the surrounding SD soldiers. They wouldn't have to worry about their jobs or their paychecks for a while, Trowa's head was worth a lot in the city of Arrowsmith.

" I don't think I'll be 'going down' any time soon, _captain._" Trowa said the word with the disgust it deserved, but was smiling as he wrinkled his nose.

" Yeah, well I don't think you're in a position to be saying things like that. I also think you need to be taught a lesson; how does losing your tongue sound?" He laughed, and Trowa felt his head forced back as the captain advanced. Realising he couldn't risk being there any longer, Trowa kicked out his leg. It didn't hit a soldier, it didn't do anything really, and the SD soldiers laughed at his helpless state.

But Trowa knew he wasn't helpless. As the wagon behind the SD started rolling forward, Trowa ducked to miss the captain's knife, and grinned when the wagon reached its destination. When he'd kicked out, he'd kicked the piece of wood holding up the wagon for repairs, and now it was unstable it toppled forward and ploughed into the group of soldiers that had let their guard down once too often.

Drop-kicking the man holding him, Trowa dashed out from the carnage and grabbed a piece of cloth off a stall. The vendor didn't even notice.

Screaming at his disorganised troops, the captain scanned the crowd for any sign of the uni-banged bandit that was making his life a living hell. Sending half of his men one way, and the rest the other, he set out to search the street from top to bottom. Even if he had to keep looking into the night.

Away from the chaos, an old man hobbled down the alleyway on a knobbly stick that barely supported his weight. Tottering down the street, he tsked at the soldiers who ran past, almost knocking him off his old feet. He pulled his cloak tighter around him and continued on, watching as the troops questioned people. It wasn't until he was out of the town entirely that the elderly man stood up straight and pulled off the cheap piece of cloth substituting a cloak.

Trowa sat down on the nearest boulder, wet from the morning drizzle. He dropped the cloth on the rock next to him, and pulled a drawstring purse from his pocket. Its contents proved to be worthwhile; sixteen gold coins and twenty silver, a cut of rose quartz used to bring love and a ring holding some lower class precious stone. He'd sell the ring and the rock, and he and Cathy would eat plentifully for another month.

Reaching down behind the boulder he pulled out a multi-coloured patchwork bag. Battered and worn but faithful, it held Trowa's stolen goods easily and he began down the road, kicking up clouds of dust as he went. He whistled and walked with a bounce in his step, his heart lightened by the idea of Captain Favous still searching the Main Street howling at his guards. Completely at ease, he noticed three black blobs that passed for people and a horse coming up the road toward him.

Further scrutinisation proved them to be two young boys, no-one he had to fear, and yet something about them made the Rogue of Arrowsmith halt.

It was as soon as he met their gaze. He'd simply intended to nod them good morning and pass by, and yet he found himself rooted to the spot. The brunette also stopped, his expression fixed on Trowa's face. Out of nowhere a shock resounded from Trowa's heart and shook his entire body leaving it warm and pin pricked. Images of faces, five in total, smiling, bleeding, weeping, trusting and dead. Pictures of battles, of wars, of a figure he knew all dressed in white with snowy wings. Outlines of weapons and love and evil...

The brown haired boy intercepted his fall, gripping his forarm and keeping him steady. He looked up, and when he met those blue eyes he knew, _he knew_. Everything and all flowed through his head, filtering through his mind.

And through it all the other boy just stood looking uneasy.

Coming back to his senses, Trowa pulled back his arm and stood up properly.

" The End." The words had left his mouth long before his mind could comprehend the fact he'd even spoken. He didn't know what they meant, and yet he did all at once. Suddenly the smallest of the three spoke up.

" Do you know eachother?" He asked.

" Yes."

" No."

" No."

" Yes. At least I think...I don't know. Did you do that? Are you some kind of mage?" Trowa shook his head, inebriated. The bag dragged by his feet as he waited helplessly for some sort of explanation for his dazed state. After an awkward silence, Heero let out a sigh.

" I'm no mage. You mentioned The End, I am the swordbearer." At his words, another barrage of attacking illusions sped through Trowa's tired brain. Of seven men, each wielding he same sword, each with some magic shield. Each with cold, dispassionate eyes. He shook his head and they cleared.

" The first..." He muttered.

" Yes. You are the first found." Heero continued for him. "You seem to understand me, and yet not..."

" These things, they're in my head. I know about some things, and nothing about others. What did you do?" Trowa demanded. Heero pulled up all knowledge he'd studied about The Four and finding them, anything. He himself had simply felt a warmth and something drawing the two of them together, not a thing 'in his head', and he wondered...

" I think they're your memories." The first of the Four had been found, with more understanding that Heero had hoped, one more step helping them avoid The End of life as they knew it.

A/N: And that's all you're getting. I hope _someone_ reviews this. Come on, if everyone leaves it to someone else then there'll eventually be none and this story will wither away like my tired brain...

Maikeru: That went long ago.

Forgetful:Silence:Pulls out broom. Hits Maikeru's head with said impliment:

Maikeru: Ow! T.T

Forgetful:Evil grin:


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** :Landscape view of a clear, blue sky dotted with fluffy clouds. Birds fly lazilly in the distance as dots, and the ground below is just a dream. Suddenly, a cloud bursts apart as Forgetful smashes through it, a big grin on her face. On her back is a parachute, and goggles cover the evil glint in her eyes.: "I have scoured the skies, and no ownership papers here! I'll just keep looking! I DON'T OWN IT! but one day I will, so tune in next time to see if I find them in _'Forgetful and the lost treasure of the Gundam Wing ownership papers.'_

**Warnings:** In the first chapter darling. This is a font test. Just to see if I can use different fonts in my fanfiction.

**AN:** I decided to do another one...I hope you're all enjoying it!

_The Ages of Sin_

_As written by Roderick Monpolo in _'Travels and Treasures'

_I first found out about the ages of sin from an old man. He lived in Skittzburgue, dressed in rags, smelling like excrement and shunned by the general populace. Through his scraggly, lengthy beard that brushed his protruding old bones, he told me of lust, greed, gluttony, wrath, sloth, pride and envy. According to him we are now in the 4th Age; that of pride. Of course, none take note of his rants, only I listened to his theory about the Ages and The End. _

" All will be under the influence of a sin when it comes, no discrimination between stable boy or king. And they come in order." _He spoke._ " And of course this includes the Four. Although they will escape most of each sin's wrath, one of them will take the brunt for all four, and this has been the way for centuries."_ And he tottered off after his tale, leaving me with little understanding. There are four warriors and seven sins, who will shield us from the three sins unaccounted for?_

The three of them made their way through trees and rubble, having left the old road behind long before. Now greenery surrounded them, the air supporting a chill that settled on the toppled pillars of the once proud temple. Heero caught Quatre for the third time, the blond being weak and wounded and unable to stop himself when the tree roots wound around his feet.

" I suggest we stop." Heero voiced, settling Quatre down on a stump where a pillar had once been. The boy flashed him an appreciative smile as he began digging through the horse's saddlebags, returning triumphant with food. " How far are we from your home Trowa?" Trowa's head snapped up, having once again been lost in his thoughts. The whole journey thus far had been shrouded by silence or difficult questions. Trowa now knew a minimum about the Four and his role, and Heero had forced out of Trowa where he came from, what family he had and where he lived. Of course, being on the run meant Trowa had to get back to said place fairly quickly, and so there they were headed.

" It should take about ten minutes to reach it, but I'm afraid we're going the difficult way round. Four or not I can't afford to be caught by Arrowsmith's Special Guard Devision." Heero nodded curtly and handed Trowa a bread roll. "And...There's something that I need to ask. Will I have to travel with you, and leave my sister behind?"

" Yes. She may go to temple where I have traveled from, it's guarded against many dangers that could confront family members of The Four, and she will be fed and looked after there, if you wish assurance of her safety." Offered Heero. Trowa's eyes remained focused on the ground as he mulled over his options.

" Are your family there, Heero?"

" I have none. But my guardian is Temple Master, and I have confidence in his abilities." Heero replied with such confidence that Trowa was struck to believe him, and yet...

" What if I refuse?" A deathly silence like fog crept around them at his words. He found himself unable to look away from Heero's level glare, and heard the quiet words all too clearly.

" If you refuse, I assure you that I have orders that The Four must be together for The End," Something took over then, clouding Heero's eyes and yet making them clearer at the same time. His face suddenly seemed millenia older, full of wisdom and experiance, housing eyes that flashed through all the colours of the rainbow. His voice reached a new low too, gravelly and hoarse. "And I _will _carry them out. Whether you want to or not, I will drag you to the last stand if I must."

And just like that the spell was broken, the silence was gone and the noises of the forest returned. Heero wavered and fell, catching himself on a tree before gravity could take hold and gripping his head in an attempt to stop the pounding pain that vibrated through his skull.

" Heero?" Quatre's quiet voice spoke up, hesitant and concerned. "Are you alright Heero?' Heero waved away his worry with a hand and sat heavily on a toppled pillar. He wiped the tears from his eyes before the others had time to notice. There was nothing in his memory to indicate he was sad, it may just have been the pain, but something was just under the surface that thrummed with tears. Once the vibrations subsided, he stood again.

" We should keep moving. I have a feeling that we've been here too long."

" The guards don't know of this way. I'm sure. We have more time than you might think." Heero shot Trowa a look that the uni-banged thief took as a warning, and looked into the gloomy trees.

" It's not the guards I'm worried about, they have no quarrel with us." He explained crypticly. Quatre and Trowa exchanged glances, but followed his lead when he ploughed onwards into the trees.

The tree roots immediatly pulled and tore at Quatre's legs as soon as they were underway. His legs were long and slender, they were his pride as a dancer, but still they weren't as long as his two companions' and he constantly found himself tripping and getting caught. Triwa knew the route well, and the greenery seemed to part sensibly in front of Heero's glare, but if anything it simply clogged up more when it came to his turn to jump a fallen log or rabbit hole.

Since he was the one most focussed on his feet, it was no surprise Quatre noticed the movements first.

Vines and straggly leaves slithered away as they passed, pulling themselves into the cover of larger ferns and denser grasses. At first he considered the fact it could be animals, taking the vegitation for nests or whatever it was they used it for, but as more and more pulled back into the forest darkness, a suspicion knawed irritably at his brain.

" Heero?" He called out to the two in front of him, just loud enough to be heard at the distance they were ahead. " Heero, I..-" But he was cut off, as just when the two boys turned, a death-grip was felt around his ankle, pulling his feet from under him and dragging him through the foliage and forest floor debris.

" Quatre!" Heero and Trowa threw themselves forward in unison, Heero drawing a plain sword from his belt and Trowa producing small knives from nowhere. Throwing one, it struck the vine and embedded itself. With incredible aim, Trowa threw again and hit the same spot, this time forcing the knife through the vine's flesh and into the ground so it was stuck. Quatre, now at a stop, wriggled in an attempt to free his abused foot. Heero hacked with his swrod and broke it off.

They watched in fascinated horror as the end detached itself from Quatre and the rest sped backwards into the trees. The cut-off segment writhed and stretched, before curling up and slowly turning a sickly brown colour. Trowa offered a hand to Quatre who, although having scooted away from the evil - now decomposing - plant life, was still on the floor.

" Are you alright?"Quatre brushed shaky hands down the front of his ruined tunic, trying in vain to removed the dirt and leaves. He was a sorry state.

" Bruised and shaken, but I think I'll live."

" It'll be back." Heero interjected, a firm look of resolve etched into his sharp features. "We need to keep moving." Trowa nodded. And so they moved, with more haste, through the forest once more. This time, Quatre found there were less roots and vines to get caught on, but for some reason this wasn't an idea that comforted him.

" You know what that thing was, don't you Heero?" Trowa suddenly asked, using his knife to clear a quicker pathway for them. Reluctantly, Heero nodded. And then he decided witholding information would be of little help.

" It was a Sweeper, a lesser sending that is made with the sole purpose of retrieval. Some can be sent with an idea of violence, but that one wouldn't have retreated if it had that intent."

" So, this Sweeper, it's been sent to 'retrieve' Quatre?" Trowa glanced at the blond a little behind him, and found him with arms wrapped around himself and eyes on the floor.

" It would appear that way. Although...As far as I can tell Quatre has nothing to do with The Four or The End. He must be part of something else." They both looked expectantly at the smallest among them, and he looked back with wide eyes.

" I don't know, nothing like this has ever happened to me before." He said in a trembling voice.

" As I thought." Heero commented offhandedly. They reached Trowa's home with little difficulty and much wariness. Trowa ran forward as soon as something was visable through the dense treetrunks. Bursting through the door of a caravan, he began a conversation with someone within. The caravan wasn't big, but a tent came off it to shelter a table for eating, a rocking chair with some unfinished knitting discarded atop it, and other bits and pieces used in everyday life. The caravan itself was wooden and painted in firey reds and golds, with dashes of purple and fantastic carvings down the sides. An old horse grazed peacefully beside them.

" Heero, Quatre, this is my sister; Cathy Bloom." Trowa jumped from the slightly raised doorway to reveal a beaming redhead with a motherly nature about her.

" I don't mean to be rude, Trowa, but we need to get out of the forest as soon as possible." Heero began, however the sister, Cathy, laughed lightly.

" Don't worry yourself, this clearing was blessed by a hedgewitch less than a week ago. Nothing of the lesser realms can get in." She explained. " Sally's very powerful, she learned in the Capital, at the palace, I trust her skills."Heero 'hn'ed, but seemed to think such protection sufficed. "Come on in, I'm sure you're all hungry after trecking the long way round.

They all filed into the camp, and Cathy pulled out some comfortable multi-coloured rigs and giant patchwork cushions for them all to sit on. They were each handed a cup of warm tea, which tasted faintly of apples, and sipped it gratefully as Trowa pulled his sister aside and spoke to her in low tones.

" Heero?" Quatre asked cautiously.

" Hm?"

" Why do you think that...that Sweeper thing is after me?" Heero considered the question for a while, and then shook his head.

" It makes little sense to me. Perhaps you unknowingly mixed with a circle of people you shouldn't, or crossed the land of someone dabbling in dark magicks. Even if you were something to do with the quest I have undertaken...There is nothing that would warrant such action this early in the situation." Quatre nodded slowly. So, no-one knew anything and he was being chased by an invisibly enemy for a crime he couldn't name. Cathy and Trowa came out from behind the caravan a few minutes following, Cathy with a face a little paler than when they'd first met her, and Trowa with an air of recluse about him.

" From what Trowa's told me you're in quite a pickle. I'll send a bird out to Sally, she'll help you get out of the forest without that sending going for you. However, I tell you now, my Trowa is not being dragged into some dangerous supernatural war." She stated defiantly.

" Cathy..." Trowa began in a warning tone.

" I'm not letting you Trowa. As your sister I have a responsibility to keep you out of trouble and harm's way, sending you off to war wouldn't be doing that, now would it?"

" I'm going Cathy. Please don't make it difficult, and I want you to go to Heero's temple. Take the caravan, and don't be a burden." Trowa sighed." Please." He repeated. Cathy followed his sigh with one of her own.

" You've really got your heart set on ths haven't you?" They were obviously continuing the conversation which had been going on behind the caravan before, out of earshot of the two guests. "Alright." She consented. "But I want to know you're alright."

" We're sending a written report from every town." Heero chipped in.

" Good." Cathy nodded. "I want at least a sentence on there from you Trowa. These are going to the temple?" She directed the last bit to Heero.

" Yes, all the letters will. Master Doji will be pleased to have company. If you wish for money, there are positions that need filling at the temple. That or he could set you up with a job in the town." Having prepared for the Four not knowing of their destinies, Doji and Heero had made space for families. So far though, the two found had only one blood relative between them.

" Thank you, that would help." Cathy accepted. " Now though, food. And I'll have to find places for you all to sleep." Cathy started up an old stove and cooking pot, and put the remainders of the meal the day before into it from a sealed pot.

The rabbit stew filled them up after the adrenalin from escaping the Sweeper had drained their energy. The conversed comfortably around the warmth of the stove on their rugs. Cathy was interested in herbs and plants apparently, and the forest was known for the best medicinal herbs and magical leaves used in hedgewitch spells. They learnt of some of the funnier escapedes of the Arrowsmith Rogue Trowa, him getting flustered at some of the more embarassing tales that his sister found no end of amusement in, and Quatre told some of the stories passed down by his people. Of mermaids and shipwrecks, and of heros and dragons. This all continued until twilight, when sleep suddenly became necessary and, with it, beds. After rootling around the caravan, the Blooms managed to produce cushions and yet more rugs and blankets. Arranging them into a comfy nest big enough for four, they also provided several sheets for the top. Once they were settled, Cathy wished them goodnight and shut herself in the caravan, leaving the boys outside to sort themselves out.

" Don't you sleep indoors Trowa?" Quatre asked.

" Usually, I think this is Cathy's way of saying she hasn't completely forgiven me yet." He smiled slightly, an expression which changed his face entirely. "She forgets how much I love the stars." Quatre smiled back.

The last rays of the sun were disappearing behind the trees as they clambered in between the sheets to sleep. They arranged themselves in a circle, with Trowa closest to the caravan and Quatre nearest the forest. You could have put a fire in the middle and called it summer camp.

However, as the others drifted off into the land of dreams, Quatre was left behind without the content, homely feeling they built up in the short time they'd been at Trowa's caravan. Instead, the darkness closed in and every forest noise made him wince and flinch. He just couldn't get the feeling of vines encircling him, crushing him, out of his head. He tossed, he turned, the sheets tangled round him as when he finally slept, he woke fitfully but minutes later covered in sweat.

" Quatre?" He jumped at the voice, his freyed nerves feeling tired and worn.

" Yes?"

" I'm guessing you can't sleep." Quatre looked over to Trowa's form and sighed.

" Accurate guess." Wrapping the warmest fur rug around himself, Quatre shuffled over to where Trowa lay and all but fell onto the ground between the from sheer exhaustion.

" Sleep doesn't seem to want to visit me either tonight. The stars are out though." Torwa was on his back, watching the sky with shining eyes. Quatre copied his position and soon found his world and vision filled with the velvet blue of night and the twinkling silver of stars. "That one right above you is Damian the warrior. (1) See, his sword is made up of the four brightest stars in a row, and his cape comes out on the left of that."

" Oh, there it is. I see it." Quatre traced the dots with his eyes. "And the plough!"

" Most people know the plough, but can you see the farm mouse next to its wheel? Three stars make up its ear below it on the left side." Trowa pointed up, and Quatre followed his finger to the sky.

" And the lioness with her cub."

" Yes." Quatre studied the night sky, stars blurring and mixing. "Shouldn't there be something over there?"

" There is." Trowa was smiling slightly again. The stars had been with him all his life, he loved them as much as his sister. The night sky was his canvas and the stars were droplets of silver paint cast up by his dreams, that was what his mother had once told him so long ago, before he and Cathy were left alone. "Ella the Blind Prophet (2) wanders that area of the night. Have you ever heard her story?"

" No." Quatre turned to him, enraptured. "Please tell me."

" Ella was born, blind, in a little village, and as she grew up she was shunned, considered a burden and a bother. She found she couldn't do anything right, and seemed to curse all she touched. The crops would fail should she plough the fields, the milk would turn sour if she milked the cow. Cupboards would fall apart at her touch, and her own bed fell into such disrepair that she was sleeping on the floor from age eight onwards.

She had dreams too, dreams of the disasters before they happened. She dreamed of a boy in the dark, and the next day Farmer Croyden's son was lost. They found him drowned in a well. She dreamed of flames dancing around a heart in a cooking pot, and that week Tom Badgerpan found his girl cheating on him and set fire to her house. It burned down the whole row and killed seven people; he was hanged.

The people blamed her for their misfortune, even her betrothed, and cast her out into the woods. On the first day, she lay by a brook and dreamed of a magnificent army. Shining silver, gold and pearl.

In the village, robbers attacked and pilliaged. They were wearing stolen armour.

On the second day, visions of mountains came to her under an apple tree.

The village suffered a landslide, and avalanche of rocks tumbling from the mountain above them, thanks to the rain.

On the third day, she dreamed of her betrothed, John. And he found her sleeping on a flat rock.

He had searched for her having realised she couldn't be to blame for the terrible accidents. He woke her, and they kissed, and Ella in her joy told him of a vision she'd had. The land of the Gods would open on the night of the full moon, and the villagers could go into a land of wonders forever. Finally, she'd blessed her people with something beautiful and good rather than a curse. They ran back to the village and told everyone the news. The week was spent preparing, people packed and gathered and waited.

On the night of the full moon, they waited with bated breath. The doors of the sky opened, and a mighty cheer went round, and the carts and people went, in lines, into the sky. Ella could see none of this, and John skipped up to her and kissed her cheek, telling her it was beautiful before running into the doorway himself. Ella was knocked and bashed and tossed about, and in the end the doors closed. Ella was left behind.

She died of a broken heart thay say, and her last words were none at all, as she had no-one to speak to. She simply wandered. Alone in the abandoned, empty village, she carved words into a rock despite her blind state. Those words were a song, a song of prophesy, though she couldn't have known that." Trowa's clear voice began a haunting tune, one sung to children.

"I'll sing you Nine-O. Heark, how the cold winds blow!

Nine for the End and warriors Four and eight for the notes of singing.

Seven for the Skylord in the sky and six for gamblers' flinging.

Five for the rings on my love's hand and four for the seasons winging.

Three, three the Ages. Nine-O. Nine-O

Two, two the lover's hearts, joined so close together,

One is one and all alone and shall be so forever." (3)

He looked down from the sky to the blond's face. Quatre was sleeping peacefully, his breath even and hair rustled slightly by the breeze.

" Seems sleep wasn't so reluctant, in the end."

(1) Yes, these are made up constallations. If you find one in the sky that looks a bit like one, then well done! You may just have discovered something great! Although some are based on my limited knowledge of astronomy, so there may be _some_ truth.

(2) Ella and her story are mine, thought I'd give mythology a go. :)

(3) Adapted folk song by Cecilia Dart-Thornton. Not mine. ADAPTED.

Thanks for reading, leave a review! MANY THANKS TO FOOLISHMORTAL! Thanks a lot. Lots of thanks. --;


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **:There is blue all around, and coral sits still in the tropical waters. Brightly coloured fish scatter as Forgetful, decked out in scuba-diving gear, swims toward you. She holds up a card, it reads;

ι ∂σи'т σωи gυи∂αм ωιиg, тнє ραρєяѕ αяєи'т ∂σωи нєяє! вυт ι ωιℓℓ! ι нανє тσ тнιик σf ѕσмєωнєяє єℓѕє тσ ѕєαя¢н иσω...That concludes stage four of _'Forgetful and the lost treasure of the Gundam Wing ownership papers.'_

**Warnings: **Shounen-ai, bad writing blah blah blah...Look in chapter one. My brain can't think of anything else.

**AN: **Annnnd another one. I'm on a roll.

**Pure**

A Fantasy By Forgetful

_Sendings_

_As written my Minora Cole in _'An Amatuer's Guide to Magicks'

_There are many forms of sending, and yet they fall into rough catagories of lesser, medium and greater fairly easily. Firstly, the most common and least powerful group of sendings are the lesser sendings. These include nightwatchers, gremlins, trolls, mornorcks, sweepers, olgans and whinges, to name but a few. A lesser sending can be repulsed by petty magic such as turned raiment, salt, charms and herbs, and housing can be protected by incantations or blessings. It is fairly easy to control a lesser sending, and easy to dispose of it once finished._

_Medium sendings range from the very powerful to the abnormally cunning. A few, such as Chitchat (A gloreck) and Ragnork (A minron) have been known to have reigns of terror spanning over centuries. Many myths and legends may contain characters who may have been a medium sending at one point or another. As a master of a medium sending, one requires a finely tuned mind and a good grasp on oneself. As afore metioned, medium sendings are cunning and sly, and they will not hesitate to weedle their way into a master's mind and take over his body. You can earn complete loyalty from a medium sending by capturing something of importance to them, such as a heart or soulstone, or by finding some way of ringing up a debt for them to owe you._

Quatre woke to Trowa sitting by the remains of the fire whistling as he carved something from a piece of oddly shaped wood. Heero was no where to be seen, and the doors and windows of the caravan were wide open, presumably to let it air.

" What time is it?" He asked groggily, wiping the remains of sleep from his eyes. Trowa looked up from his carving at the sun, which was just beginning to break through the clouds.

" Around ten o'clock in the morning." Trowa replied, picking up a basket and tossing an apple from it in Quatre's direction. "You missed the cooked breakfast I'm afraid." Quatre bit into the apple and looked around the little camp. Heero and Trowa had both folded their rugs and stacked them beside the door to the caravan, and the dishes were in a box ready to be taken to the stream for washing.

" Where's Heero?"

" Behind the caravan with Cathy, I think they're washing. Get dressed and go see them, I'm sure Cathy will have something for you to do." Trowa went back to chipping off wood carvings and Quatre was ignored. Sighing, and realising that chores would probably be a good way of repaying Cathy for her hospitality, Quatre pulled his tunic over the white shirt -supplied by Heero- and ran his fingers through his hair in hopes it would tame itself.

Edging round the caravan's side, Quatre politely looked to the side in case anyone was in a revealing state of dress as he rounded the corner. However, the scene was not one he'd expected. Instead of the two of them washing their faces and preparing for the day (He'd wondered quite why the two of them would do that together anyway) they were both around a large, wooden, barrel-like tub. Sleeves rolled up and arms plunged into water up to their elbows, covered in soap suds, they were washing _clothes_. And Quatre had to admit that the image of Heero as a houswife was rather amusing.

Said swordsman glared visciously at him as he meandred over with a smile on his face.

" Good morning. Anything I can do to help?" Cathy looked up with a beam and a gleam in her eye that told of torture. Quatre supposed that very nature was how she got Heero roped into housework in the first place.

" As a matter of fact, yes. Firstly, go to the stream and freshen up, take the box of crockery with you. Make sure all the plates are thoroughly scrubbed mind. Though stay within the two birch trees, since that was the only place Sally blessed and I don't think that Sweeper's gone for good." She got up as she spoke, wiping her hands on her apron and turned him round in the direction of the box and the stream. Moving quickly under her scrutinising gaze, he hoisted the box up into his arms and ambled along with it.

Finding the two birch trees, he placed the box on the ground and wondered if he had enough time to bathe fully. Taking his chances, he stripped himself of his tunic, trousers and undergarments, leaving only the shirt that hung just above his knees. He'd leave it on, it needed washing anyway and would save Cathy, or Heero, the trouble.

He dipped both feet in and shivered at the temperature. Freezing. Biting back the cold, he continued to wade out until it was waist height, and then bravely ducked his head under. He came up spluttering and shivering, and turned suddenly at laughter behind him.

" We could have gone to the hot springs if you'd asked." Trowa grinned, towel over one shoulder. "Cathy sent me to make sure you didn't get yourself into trouble." He tossed a bar of soap, which smelled suspiciously of lemons, and Quatre caught it deftly. Washing quickly to avoid staying in the cold water for too long, he finished in record time and pulled himself back to the bank to recieve a most welcome towel.

" I see. Next time you have guests you should inform them of that little luxury _before _they try the river." Trowa only laughed lightly again and picked up a plate to dunk in the water frothing at the border-rocks. Quatre wrapped the towel around himself and took out a dish himself. Together they worked in companionable silence but for the birds and forest noises about them, and the two of them soon had the job done. Trowa put the last plate in the box and lifted it to leave, not waiting for his blond guest. Picking up his trousers and pulling them on, Quatre shouldered his tunic and left the shirt on to dry naturally, running to catch up.

When they got back, Heero and Cathy were just finishing hanging out the laundry they'd washed so skillfully.

" Quatre!" Cathy called, beckoning him over. Whe he got there, she dragged a sack from behind her and lumped it at his feet. "Drag this over to the bench would you? And Trowa, you and Heero need to cut me some more firewood or there'll be no supper!" Cathy seemed to find no discomfort in ordering three young men about the place, although Heero couldn't tell if this was a good or bad thing. Having spent the previous half hour scrubbing and washing, he was leaning toward the latter. Following Trowa's lead, he picked up an axe from its resting place beside a wooden stump and walked out into the trees. The uni-banged bandit pointed to a tree and Heero nodded his approval, swinging his axe around to embed it into the trunk. It was a good job Master Doji had been as intent on housework as Miss. Bloom, or else he might have been completely uprepared for her passion for order.

Trowa fell in time with the boy on his left, creating a rhythem that rang throughout the forest. However, his mind wasn't really on the task at hand, it wandered to the events of the previous day.

Firstly, the 'memories'. He'd never believed in reincarnation, and a part of him wanted to cling to the 'once-you're-dead-you're-dead' philosophy he had, but Heero's proposition had thrown his whole belief system out of the window in one fell swoop. Instead he was now faced with the image of blazing eyes and a sword every time he looked at the brunette. Then there were the five people he'd seen in that painful memory recollection he'd had on the road from Arrowsmith, and the white figure...

But, of course, that made no sense. The name was The Four for one reason; there were supposed to be _four_. So that fifth person was either an imposter or someone on the other side...If there even was another side. He still didn't know exactly what they were fighting, or what The End would actually consist of. Trowa's reveree was broken by Heero's shout of 'Timbre!'

The tree crashed through the forest, falling in the opposite direction to the caravan and tearing down a fair few branches with it. Clambering over the remains of the roots, Heero set to work carving the trunk of the relatively small tree into sections, and Trowa shook the troubling thoughts from his head and joined him.

Cathy and Quatre were sat beside the caravan on a wooden bench, the sack Quatre had dragged spilling potatoes that needed peeling. Cathy chattered aimlessly as she peeled with a knife in her hand. Quatre had had a little difficulty mastering the art of seperating skin from flesh at first, but found he could peel the entire thing while only breaking the peel once or twice after a while.

" So then, where are you from? Trowa told me he didn't know anything about you yet, thanks to all this 'Four to save the Universe' stuff." Cathy inquired, flicking potato peel into the trees beside her.

" Ah, I used to travel with my tribe, but there was an...an attack and now..." He trailed off, and didn't miss the horrified look on Cathy's face. She stabbed her knife into the table top and pulled him into a hug.

" Oh you poor thing, I'm so sorry. I knew there had to be a reason for someone like you to be traveling with someone as cold as that Yuy." She gushed, her mothering instinct coming into full swing. Quatre gave a little smile.

" I'm alright. It happened a while ago, and I've grieved enough. Besides, Heero's not so bad, and I'll find somewhere to go once we get to the next town. I won't be in the way then." He pulled himself from her and selected another potato from the sack.

" Why don't you try to find someone from your group? I'm sure someone will be somewhere just waiting for all the survivors to assemble." Cathy offered, yanking her blade from the table and taking up her unfinished potato. "You'll just have to locate them, or is that what you're already trying to do?"

" No, I can't. I ran when I should have stayed to fight. I'm a coward, and for my betrayal I couldn't go back even if they welcomed me. My morals wouldn't allow it."

" But surely you can't just wonder around alone!" She protested. Quatre didn't reply, focussed on his task, but Catherine would not be dissuaded. "At least stay with Heero and Trowa, he's been so happy with the two of you here, and although it would be nice for him to have even one new friend, Heero would just push him back into those long silences I fear. It took me forever to break that habit of his." Quatre sighed as the potato slipped from his grasp and rolled away. Getting up, he brushed some hair from his eyes.

" I'll think about it." Bending down, he reached into a bush to retrieve the insubordinate vegitable (Is a potato a vegitable?) "But the moment I start to feel like a third wheel...What?" The potato was gone, and suddenly an all too familiar vine snaked around his wrist, yanking him from his crouched position onto the floor in front of him. Cathy saw it immediately and ran for the caravan, grabbing a broom to arm herself. With an air of confidence, as though getting rid of a household pest, she strode toward the trees.

" Trowa!" Quatre felt something else wrap itself around his waist, and these two holds pulled him up and off the floor to a giddying height. It was then he started to panic.

" Trowa!" Cathy tried again, getting no response. Quatre's sudden cry behind her seemed to elict a reaction though, as both Heero and Trowa stumbled out from the trees, axes in hand. Quatre was now high enough that, if dropped, death would be unavoidable.

" Sally's wards didn't work?" Trowa asked hurriedly.

" No, it's not that, I think he just put his arm beyond the barrier. It must have grabbed that and pulled him through!" Cathy answered, still weilding the broom menacingly. Heero was already at the foot of the largest vine, the one around Quatre's waist, and was trying to find a way of attacking it without making it drop the blond. He was also fending off several smaller vines at the same time, along with a viscious looking plant with large leaves.

Quatre could feel his stomach lurch as he was thrown to the left and had his shirt torn down the front. He kicked and writhed but apparently to no avail. Oddly enough, the thought that he was glad he'd put his trousers back on occured to him as he noticed Heero below. Another rope of plant was in his face, poised like a snake, and he eyed it warilly. What did this thing want?

It started from his right foot, winding round and up his leg before moving on to the other one. Then his waist and torso, slithering inside the torn shirt and making Quatre flinch at the feel of it on his bare skin. Reaching his neck, it constricted, putting tremendous pressure on Quatre's already abused ribs. A necklace hung around his slender neck, a silver locket that Quatre had never been able to open, and it coiled itself around the chain of this adornment and began to pull.

" No!" Quatre cried, his efforts to escape doubling, tears appearing to fly sparkling from his eyes. "Don't you dare try to take that you...you...No!"

On the ground, no-one had been able to do anything that wouldn't result in Quatre plummeting to the hard earth below, and they watched anxiously. It was Trowa who realised first that Quatre wasn't the target, but the necklace he wore was. Ignoring Quatre's cries as the chain of the locket gave way, he ran to the vine that now had the necklace in its grasp and hacked at its base. The thing writhed and groaned, and as Heero joined him they cut it clean through. The dead end decomposed just like the last, and it dropped the necklace in the dirt at Trowa's feet. As he had predicted, the plant flung Quatre aside and went for the glinting locket, smacking into the barrier that came courtesy of Sally.

Heero caught the blond and put him on his feet, dragging him by his arm back into the protection of the camp with the plants behind them rearing up like some furious dragon. Quatre collapsed on his knees and picked up the locket, cradling it to his chest, tears streaming down his cheeks.

" We should get into the caravan, just in case it breaks through!" Cathy raised her voice above the roaring and crashing of the Sweeper, her arms around Quatre's shaking shoulders.

" No, if it breaks through then it'll only crush the caravan with us inside." Answered Heero.

" Then what do we do?" She yelled, frustrated. Then, without warning, the Sweeper went ridgid, a giant spike pointing at the sky. "It's going to attack!" Holding her broom protectively before the unarmed blond, Cathy prepared for battle. But as the Sweeper finally began to move again, it simply fell apart. Bits of plant slid off it like the potato peel from before, landing on the ground with thuds and thumps. From this destruction, a figure emerged. Slowly weaving through the trees and expertly avoiding dropping debris.

" Sally!" Cathy called, rushing over.

" Cathy!" They hugged and began to chatter, smiles and laughter even though the remains of their enemy had only just crumbled. "Oh! That child..." Sally said spotting Quatre.

" Leave them be. I've a feeling only they understand eachother anyway." Turning Sally toward the caravan, they went inside.

Heero bent down beside Quatre, face diplaying concern but unable to convey it through lack of emotional experience.

" Heero I...I miss them all so much." Heero concluded Quatre was talking about his family and people, and, copying Cathy, put his arms awkwardly around the sobbing boy. They stayed like that for while, Trowa watching them both sympetheticly, until Quatre pulled away with whatever grace he could muster.

" I'm sorry." He said, looking at the ground. "I made you uncomfortable, but everything just caught up with me..." He trailed off, and Trowa gave an encouraging smile.

" It's fine. Have you cried for them, before now?"

" No." Quatre admitted.

" Then it's good you did. Everyone needs to cry some time, it is compulsory in the grieving process. You can start to move on now." Trowa told him quietly.

" We'll have a memorial service at the temple." Heero offered, helping Quatre up from the ground.

" Thank you, both of you."

In the caravan, Sally pulled out a little paper bird from her breast pocket. It flitted and chirped for a moment, before becoming still and lifeless. Cathy took it from her and unfolded it to make a flat sheet of paper. Her message ot Sally was on it, but it slowly faded, ready for the next time she wrote on it.

" So, the End is upon us." Sally said crypticly.

" It appears so. And my little brother is a part of it." Cathy smoothed the paper out on the desk and made sure it stayed using a paper weight. The three boys came through the door then, sitting in a line along the wooden bench.

" So." Sally began. "What is it about your necklace that's so desired?" Quatre turned it over in his hands.

" I don't know; it's jammed. Never opened. But, my father gave it to me when I was very small. He always said that I had to guard it with my life, and that one day it's owner would come for it. It's been passed down through my people for centuries.

" May I?" Sally reacher her hand out for it, and Quatre placed it carefully in her palm. She studied it and muttered a few incantations, but nothing happened. In the end she gave up and handed it to Trowa.

" Did your father ever say what it was for?" Cathy asked.

" No. Just that I had to keep it safe." Quatre's eyes followed it around the group, but his mind was obviously elsewhere. There was a gasp though that forced his head to snap up. The locket lay open on the palm of one Heero Yuy, it's secret waiting to be revealed.

BAH! Well, another chapter. I'm actually supposed to be writing my FMA fic right now, but I'm not in the mood. So you have another chapter! I should really bring Duo in soon, but don't worry, with the necklace will come the last two G-Boys! Duo will definitely be here before chapter 7, so look forward to that. Now I have to decide to myself what this End thing is actually gonna' be...

Now now, someone in a review metioned that this was _semi_-origional. That got me slightly flustered when I realised that was, unfortunately, true. I apologise for the simple fact that this storyline is one of many that you've probably read before, however I'm sure you appreciate how difficult it is to make a story stand out in the fantasy genre. I am still an amatuer writer. Tolkien and Hobb are beyond my reach, but I thank you for staying with it this far and hope you can find small parts that amuse you or strike you as something on their own.

I'm still working on it. :wink:


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** :Darkness is everywhere. Rocks jut out at strange angles, and bats hang languidly from the ceiling. The beam of a small torch swings around to illuminate the cave in its gloomy entirety. Forgetful whispers to avoid startling the little winged buggers.: " I have plundered every cave here, and despite finding a cool looking treasure map and lots of bat poop, there are no Gundam Wing ownership papers anywhere near. I don't own it! But don't dispair, we fangirls WILL. I will make sure of it. :Evil glint in eye: Try again next time in '_Forgetful, and the lost treasure of the Gundam Wing ownership papers_'!

**Warnings:** Yea me hearties, ye be needin ta check chapter one.

**AN:** :Forgetful wearing eye patch: MUHAHAHA! Another chapter be. Have fun, Aye. (Can you tell I watched Pirates of the Caribbean II recently? Damn movies coming out slow in England. I WANNA WATCH DEATH NOTE!)

**Pure**

A Fantasy By Forgetful

_Sendings_

_As written by Minora Cole in _'An Amatuer's Guid to Magicks'

_The most powerful form of sending is a greater sending. As its name implies, a greater sending can best a lesser or medium sending at anything, but they are incredibly difficult to control as a human. Very few people over the history of time have ever managed to control a greater sending. If you are fool enough to attempt such a feat, the best way to go about it is to raise the sending from its infant form. This means stealing the sending from its mother's nest, or creating one yourself._

_It is next to impossible to create a greater sending, but six cases have been recorded. Never attempt such a thing. If you do, you may well open the gates ot Hell and damn us all._

The group stared in wonder at the tiny silver thing nestled in Heero's palm. Candle-light flickered over the metal, and glinted on something glass inside. Respectfully, Heero gave the locket back to its owner, and Quatre held it up to the light himself.

A single hand, like that of a clock, pointed off to his left some way, and around that were four points labelled N, E, S, W. North, East, South and West.

" It's a compass." Quatre stated, and his voice shattered the spell as they all leaned in to see. The compass had a mother-of-pearl back, and golden engravings, and when he tilted it up to the candle flame, Quatre could just make out words in very old text.

A guiding star,

Through nights of old

With knowledge deep

and hands of gold.

Will lead the pure,

Danger through,

By the way of

Swordbearer true.

" Swordbearer." Trowa murmered. He and Quatre looked pointedly at Heero.

" I know nothing of a compass. However, the terms 'swordbearer' and 'pure' are often connected with the Four, and it opened by my hand." Heero glared thoughtfully at the spinning instrument. Suddenly Quatre leant forward.

" Look." He pointed at the hand. "This isn't pointing to north. That's to the right of the caravan, this is leading off more to the angle of south-west."

" Maybe you should follow it?" Trowa heard Cathy's words through an unwelcome haze, his vision clouding and head pulsing.

" It could just as easily lead to danger as it could to help." Images were flashing again, memories resurfacing from the recesses of his mind. Swirling and jostling for a place at the front, pushing their way out of his head with such force he thought he might be ripped apart. But there it was, charging toward him...

" It will lead to the sword." They turned at the sound of a booming voice, layered over with others of all kinds. "The Compass will always lead to the sword." Trowa's eyes weren't his, they had no irises and were ivory windows into another world. Heero nodded while the rest of them stared wonderingly.

Trowa, however, was no longer with them. He was somewhere entirely new, surrounded by white mist. He couldn't feel himself at all, as though he had no physical form, although when he looked down his body was there. It was almost like floating, except there was no floor to float off from and he didn't seem to be going anywhere.

" Hello Trowa." A voice whispered and shouted, coming from nowhere and everywhere at once. He couldn't see the speaker.

" What is this place, how did you transport me from the caravan?" Trowa countered bravely.

" I haven't transported you anywhere. We are in the haven of your mind, a place created by the third found of the first cycle." Trowa frowned.

" I don't understand."

" There have been seven cycles of the End, and it has been prevented each time. When the first cycle came to be, the third found of that time created a haven to retreat to as a place of safety. This place was created to house the memories of each generation, and the soul of one of the Four so that they could instruct the generation after them. It's all been created to make it easier for you and your companions to take on the End." The voice finished, and Trowa looked over to where some movement had caught his eye. There the mist was getting brighter, like a great white light. It began to take the shape of a man, and Trowa could vaguely make out a face.

" It's you!" He blurted out before his mind had chance to catch up.

" You recognise me?" The face smiled. He had long, white-blond hair drawn back in a loose ponytail, and robes of light which surrounded him. Trowa had to shield his eyes from the glare, but even then he couldn't see the whole of the man.

" You, throughout my childhood you were there. But..."

" I was there. I watched you grow, and I was there on that day on Lancick Lake." An image of himself, small and soaking wet as he gripped onto a log which floated miraculously into shore formed itself in the mist.

" I would have died that day." Trowa murmered, running his hand through the image.

" I couldn't let you, you had to live for this day. I have three chances to interfere in your world, and I have used one. I only fear that you will need my aid more than two times in the coming trials." There was silence between them until the man's head cocked as though he were listening to something beyond Trowa's reach. "You must leave here now. I am Sheridan, and I will visit you in your dreams unless you need me direly, that way will be less taxing for both of us. One more thing, trader, follow the compass, but beware the man with the serpent coin." With that, Sheridan ruffled his hair with an affectionate smile and covered his eyes with one slender fingered hand.

The darkness was abated when Trowa blinked his eyes into focus and found himself looking at Sally. A cold compress was on his head, and he removed it with disgust.

" Why am I in bed? I'm not sick." He asked her.

" You collapsed Trowa. It's just a precaution, Cathy did warn me that you didn't like being treated as the invalid." She held a spoon out to him, in its bowl was a honey-like substance which looked sickening. "This will replenish your energy. I think you'll need it." Trowa took it with a scowl, suddenly realising he was exhausted and that this had been what Sheridan had meant by 'taxing'. Raising it to his lips, thankful Sally hadn't tried to feed him herself, he forced himself to swallow the disgustingly sticky medication. Making a face at the sour taste, Trowa jumped when Cathy bustled into the room and crushed him into a hug.

" Fetch Heero and Quatre Cathy." Trowa told her. " I have news."

Heero and Quatre came, and when Trowa had finished his tale of Sheridan and his mind haven, Heero began.

" Sheridan was one of the Four in the seventh cycle, the most recent. He was the only one of the nine of them to die in battle. There have only ever been a handful of the Four from each cycle to have died at all." He explained.

" But, Heero, you said nine...?" Asked Quatre, obviously piecing bits together in hopes of understanding what the others already knew.

" Yes, nine. The Four, the Skylord and four Angels." Heero clarified. Quatre's eyes widened slightly.

" Angels?"

" Not like you are envisioning I'm sure. The Angels is a term given to four young women who will aid the Four in their struggle against the end." Behind Quatre's eyes his thoughts were almost visible as he added more pieces to the puzzle.

" Where are they?" Trowa asked, halfway out of the bed and replacing his cloak.

" I'm not sure. Nothing I've ever read or heard contained any information on how to find the angels, where they would be or who they were. They were found in all the other cycles." Heero shrugged. "We can only hope that this time will be the same." A sudden harsh ringing erupted from Sally, and heads shot round to watch her fumble in her pocket for the offending racket. She frowned deeply, pulling out a bell that rocked violently with spasms.

" My alarm has been breached. Someone has entered the forest, and since I told the townspeople not to venture here we can only assume they're unfriendly." She told them, silencing the clapper with her hand and a word.

" We have to leave. Now." Ordered Heero.

" Could we travel in the caravan?" Quatre wondered aloud. It had wheels and the pony of course, and maybe, if someone was already out to get them...

" Bessie can pull this thing, we just have to get everything indoors." Cathy supplied. Heero nodded, and waved her away.

" The intruder is ten-" Another ringing began, and Sally fished another bell from her person with raised eyebrows. "Five minutes away."

" Fetch everything quickly, we're leaving in three minutes. From now on we're a group of travelling gypsies. Performers, and we've never been anything but." At Heero's words Quatre beamed and Trowa smirked, it was going to be an interesting journey.

X

The forest was behind them, and after two more of Sally's bells went off she declared she'd travel with them. Bessie dutifully pulled the heavy caravan, everything piled inside, and Quatre and Cathy were at the front watching the road. Quatre because he knew the most about their disguise, and Cathy because they would have to go through Arrowsmith and Trowa would be instantly recognised by any law official.

" Considering the direction in which the person is travelling through the forest, and the stops people such as us performers would usually make, I'd say we have to go down through Arrowsmith, on to Seathan's Cross and across the Elendial River to Taunton." Sally advised, jabbing her forfinger into certain points of the old map spread out on the table. Inside the caravan was shaking and it was hard to stand up, but at least Cathy and Trowa had secured all their belongings so nothing dangerous fell on anyone. Heero frowned at the map, following with his eyes the route Sally was preposing.

" That leads in the opposite direction to the compass, it will take us too much time." He said logically.

" Ah, but Heero." The hedgewitch countered. "Our disguise would be wasted if we cut across like you suggest. Do we go for speed, or for secrecy?"

" It's a measure of both." Trowa interjected, cutting Heero off. "From what I know, there is a limited amount of time before The End arrives. However, it may succeed if we are stopped from finding the others needed to prevent it as Sally suggests."

" What should we do then?"

" Skip Arrowsmith. If anyone asks, we've been asked by a baron to perform at his hall. Whitcan Hall. And we're making our way there quickly to arrive in two days time, for fear of losing our pay." Trowa offered calmly, scanning the map once more with his eyes.

" That's a good plan." Sally stated, and Heero nodded behind her.

" I've been lying my whole life, it's second nature." Modestly Trowa answered.

" Yes, you have theif. Indeed you have." Sally agreed. Trowa turned from them and moved cautiously toward the front of the caravan. After picking his way through various items, he opened a hatch and shouted out to Cathy.

" Skip town Cath, we want Seathan's Cross."

" Right-O." Was the reply, and they all braced themselves as the cart turned sharply.

Seathan's Cross was known as the trading point of Meinera. The whole country seemed to gather there as traders, farmers, healers and blacksmiths mingled together to sell their wares.

" To remain undetected there we'll require goods to sell." Trowa pointed out, poking the fire with a stick. Having stopped for the night they'd placed more of Sally's alarms around the camp. There hadn't seemed to have been anyone following them for the three hours they'd managed before twilight, but none would argue the caution was unneeded.

" Usually travellers would sell jewellery, sometimes horses." Quatre provided, but Trowa shook his head.

" No, we would be in danger of theives with any gold or such on board, and horses would be too noticable. We need something light, like cloaks."

" Silk maybe? We often sold our silks to people wanting exotic materials for their clothes." Trowa nodded.

" Perfect. We'll buy them from a place I know. It's just outside Seathan's Cross." He decided.

" With what?" Interrupted Heero. "We have little money enough for food, and I doubt you are richer than you seem." Trowa smiled as though he knew someting they didn't.

" I'll come up with something. We should be there by tomorrow evening, I'll have the money by then." Cathy came out of the caravan and lifted the lid off the pot over the fire.

" Do you think, if money isn't going to be a problem, that I could maybe get something?" Quatre asked, the fire casting dancing shadows over his face, making him almost unrecognisable. Trowa supposed he must look the same from where the blond was sitting.

" That depends on what it is, it's probably something we can do for you." Trowa replied.

" Well then, if I'm not a burden and am going to travel with you through danger and peril, I imagine I might need a knife of some sort." Trowa and Heero raised their eyebrows at eachother.

" And _I_ would imagine," Began Heero. "That to have a weapon as such, one should be skilled in the art of using it." Quatre flushed. So, Heero thought he wasn't up to anything. Looking to Trowa he saw sympathy, but no sign of retaliation. Apparently both of them thought the same, but he wanted to prove he could meet their standards. And at that an idea formed.

" Well, could I spar with you Heero? You could see if I was good enough to teach, maybe."

" I don't know..."

" Please, I'd really love to learn." Heero looked to Trowa, who shrugged and threw the sheathed longknife in Quatre's direction.

" Alright. But only if you stick with it and train every day." Heero told him. He nodded, smiling, and got up from the floor.

The clearing they chose wasn't all that big, but it would be enough for training, Heero noted. He got into his beginning stance, and watched the blond carefully copy his movements.

" It's often best to wait for your opponent to make the first move, unless you know of a weakness which would give you the upper hand with the first blow." Quatre nodded, concentrating. Heero suddenly lunged. " Block my sword at the hilt and lock it with your own!"

Bringing the knife up Quatre hastilly blocked the sharp steel flying for his throat, but his hands were pushed back.

" That's a weak block, I can push you into a corner when you don't brace your-" But Heero stopped as his sword was flicked from his hand and he felt a pressure on his neck, choking him. Quatre had managed to dart around him, pull his cloak up over a branch and hoist him up like a pully. Said boy thrust Trowa's longknife through Heero's cloak to the tree trunk and went and picked up the sword his adversary had lost. Using the tip to flick open the clasp of the cloak, he watched an out of breath swordbearer land sprawled on the ground as the forest around him was fast being consumed by shadows.

Clapping came from Trowa, who was leant against a tree, until the sheath of his knife was thrown at his head. He ducked and caught it deftly, but the message was there.

" That should teach you not to underestimate your opponent, especially when he's more skilled than you." With that, Quatre stabbed Heero's sword into the ground and stalked off to talk to Cathy. He didn't suppose either of them would mock the skills of someone else for a long time after.

In the clearing, Trowa offered an unaccepted hand to the scowling Heero.

" I'd say we've been told." He laughed.

" I'd say I've been humiliated." Trowa just shrugged.

" You did sound very patronising when you went off on that speach about skills in the art of weaponry." Heero sighed.

" I'll re-evaluate the way I judge people." He walked off in the direction Quatre had gone in, and Trowa was sure he heard the almighty Yuy apologise, though he couldn' be sure. Either way, Quatre came back smiling and ended up fixing the gash he'd made in Heero's white cloak after supper. He had a feeling they'd all be surprised by one another in the journey ahead, but surprises weren't always a bad thing.

OMG it's chapter 5. I'm just belting these things out, even though I've been on holiday for two weeks. ARG! That reminds me of all the stuff I have to do on the net that I didn't have chance to during the holidays...Nuts. --;

And yeah, I know, where are Duo and Wufei? And Relena and Treize and the rest, but they haven't been asked for yet. He he. Well, they're coming. :ducks rotten veggies: THEY'RE COMING DAMNIT! Just let me sort out a plotline first...

Oh, and this was written on a Sunday, but said something about not having complete power on Sunday bla lah lah...So yeah, this might be up late 'cause I'm not about on Monday. But yeah, we'll see what I can do.

Hope you like it! Forgetful. XxX


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